


Behind the Mask

by Elora_Lane



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bellarke Secret Santa, F/M, Marriage of Convenience, More so a drabble, royal au, teaching something new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elora_Lane/pseuds/Elora_Lane
Summary: Regardless of whether or not the man wanted to marry her, he had to put forth some effort, come on.After all, this was their engagement party.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 133





	Behind the Mask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shen_Gong_Oops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shen_Gong_Oops/gifts).



> I apologize for the delay. I had technical issues and bad bout of writer's block. Multiple chapters are possible, should the giftee like it.

Princess Clarke could feel her body growing warm from the abundance of mulled cider in her belly, just as the orchestra began to play another waltz, she decided to take a moment to gather her wits. As was proper, she had danced with almost every man in the room. Most of them wore black, gold or emerald-colored masks- the brighter, the richer they were. Sighing in frustration, Clarke couldn’t believe that no man with a fancy jeweled mask had asked her for dance yet- surely, the prince would be wearing such a mask, as his family colors were bright and the mask his father wore to court his mother was rumored to have jewels in it.

It was possible that he wasn’t here, Clarke thought for a moment. But before she could properly consider that, she had to shake her head. There was no way that Prince Bellamy would do that to her. Even if he had, at one point in time, been a bit of a ladies’ man, he had responsibilities- and one of those was marrying her. 

Even with her mask on, she was certain that the prince would have spotted her by now. After all, her blond ringlets were spilling over her regal evening gown. In addition, her mask was white- to signal that she was the potential bride. But so far, there was no skinny, bronze and freckled boy with short hair following her around yet- and according to Octavia, his younger sister (and Clarke’s dear friend), he still looked more or less the same. 

Regardless of whether or not the man wanted to marry her, he had to put forth some effort, _come on._

Peace treaty or no, she still had the right to refuse his hand if he was going to be so rude and off-putting. Turning about the room one more time, Clarke spotted a man from earlier looking at her. His hair was dark, like the royal family’s, but longer, and curly. And he was most definitely not a boy- but a man. As Clarke’s eyes met his, she felt her heart jump- his eyes were like fire.

_Who was that?_

She couldn’t help but ask herself why hadn’t he asked her to dance yet? 

Waiting a few more minutes, the princess decided to go outside to take in some fresh air. She was done waiting for the prince to show up to his ball. If he wanted to talk to her, he’d have to seek her out. 

Making her way to the grounds, Clarke found that the hemp rings for quoits were lying around the small wooden post. Looking around, she figured it wouldn’t be so indecent for her to play by herself. After all, she really was very bored. As another dance started in the distance, she counted paces from the stump, to make the game challenging enough. 

“Isn’t it a bit cold out for ring toss?” a voice asked, looking up, Clarke saw that it was the man from earlier, with the curly hair, “you’ll catch your death out here.” 

“Well, at least I’ll be entertained to death, rather than bored to death,” Clarke mused, drawing a line in the snow where- marking the perfect distance from the stake. 

“Does the Prince’s gesture leave that much to be desired, Princess?” the man asked, sounding concerned, “After all, his sister said that this was the sort of event you would like.” 

“Yes, and his sister said he would be here,” she laughed, throwing a ring and missing by an embarrassing chasm. 

“Isn’t he?” The man asked, sounding confused. 

“I haven’t seen him yet! I’ve danced with every man in that room two times over, save you. And you’d think my soon-to-be-husband would at least want to dance with me… but I suppose he doesn’t have time for that, when he’s busy contemplating a war with my parent’s kingdom, should one of us should decide not to marry.” 

“Or perhaps, delegations with your father ran late, and the prince wanted to evaluate your temperament before assuming that you’d fancy him enough to dance.”

“Of course, I fancy him enough to dance!” Clarke threw another ring in frustration, who was this man, anyway? “I’m marrying him after all.” 

“Are you sure? Because from what I understand you don’t even know who he is- and you don’t seem to know that he already signed the treaty and would never ask for a man’s daughter in exchange for his Kingdom’s safety. The prince is a lot of things- but he’s not a barbarian.” 

“Excuse me?” Clarke said, whipping around so fast, her hair followed, “How dare you say that I was implying-” 

“But were you not?” the man asked, moving closer. Clarke imagined this his eyebrows were raised underneath his black mask, “you’ve accused him of gaining your hand in marriage by means of duress? You knew the prince as a child, is that something he would do?” 

“I-” Clarke began only to find herself staring at the ground again, “I admit, Bellamy never seemed the sort to do something like that. He was always kind and generous to me, I shouldn’t have assumed such a thing.” 

“Well, I’m sure he forgives you,” the man offered, seemingly cooling down. Just as Clarke was going to ask who he was, he spoke up, “you’re- uh, doing that wrong.” 

“What?” 

“The ring toss,” he said, “you need to get into a proper stance, square your shoulders, and use your knees.” 

“Would you like to show me?” Clarke asked, offering him the rest of the rings. Just as she did, she spied his ring finger, which had a ring upon it. It was the Blake Royal crest, complete with a Lion and Garnet. 

And as he landed the hemp circles around the stake successfully, Clarke felt herself blush furiously- there was only one person who had a ring like that, now that Octavia had married Lincoln Woods of the Tree Clan (a move which had devastated some of the Court, but Clarke supported her friend’s desire for love).

“Is that- are you?” Clarke began, feeling too embarrassed to ask if he was indeed the Prince. 

“Why, yes, I am very good at this game, thank you for asking,” he said, before he seemed to notice that Clarke was now shivering, “are you cold, Princess?” 

Clarke merely nodded, and Bellamy pulled off his jacket to cover her, “I’d hate to be a bad host,” he murmured, rubbing her upper arms gently, “after all, never know what opinions might be formed as a result of being late and shy.” 

Clarke couldn’t help but wince at that, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t worry,” he said, a sympathetic grin catching her eye, “if I were a woman, I’d be worried about being bought and sold and bartered for, as well. It’s cruel what men do to the fairer sex.” 

After grabbing the pieces from the game, Bellamy came up behind her and handed one to her. As she held on to the hemp rings, he moved her body bit by bit, “here,” he said, holding the item with her as Clarke stared back at him, “how about we try this out?” 

With a nod, she found her eyes traveling from his own brown spheres to his lips- and just as she leaned in, he did too. 

Perhaps his kiss would have been kind, gentle and sweet… If Clarke had a moment to actually kiss him, before Harper and Maya ran toward them, giggling and shouting over one another, “Princess! One John Murphy, Court Jester requests your presence for his show!” 

“Should I tell them the Princess is indisposed?” Bellamy whispered, sounding entertained.

“No, we don’t want rumors, do we?” Clarke asked, turning back to the goal and tossing the ring. To her astonishment, they made it, “look at that. Apparently, we do well together.” 

“Together,” Bellamy agreed, before taking her arm and leading her back to her friends.


End file.
